


Simple Gifts

by Merkwerkee



Category: Void Jumpers (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, gift-giving, sometimes the soul needs a little fluff as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: While robbing a bank, Tag takes a moment to open a gift left for him by Mrs. Klaus





	Simple Gifts

Tag slammed the telephone back down onto its receiver with a heavy _clack_ \- if the thing hadn’t been of a sturdy construction, it would likely have cracked under the blow.

He wasn’t angry, per se, but he’d gotten a little carried up and away in the speech he’d given the confused security center. It wasn’t their fault, of course, they were just doing their jobs, but their arrival would have put the whole mission in jeopardy and Tag was tired of risking life and limb for Slakta. There had been too many close calls already on this planet, and he simply couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad about thwarting another.

The slamming phone did more than end the conversation, however. One of the desk drawers had apparently not been latched properly, and had rattled open just a smidge at the impact of phone on receiver. Tag normally wouldn’t have noticed - it was such a small detail, and he’d also managed to upset a cup of pens and knock over a blank photo frame in the same motion - but a flash of shiny red from the interior of the drawer caught his eye. Ever since he’d put on the amulet, shiny things had stood out to him more and made his fingers itch to grab them.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, the drawer was all the way open and a small, red-wrapped box was in his hands. It looked different from the surroundings, more bright and vibrant in a way he wasn’t quite certain how to quantify. It wasn’t powerful in the way the things Slakta sent them into the memories to get were powerful, but it was also very clearly not part of the memory around him either. With careful fingers, he reached over and flipped over the tag attached to the top.

 _To Tag,_ it read.

 _From Mrs. Klaus_.

Tag blinked and looked around the somewhat generic office. There was nobody else present, of course, no one else to whom the tag could refer to, but he had to check anyway. It had always been other parallels-in-training who had received gifts, not him. A few of the prettily-wrapped presents had been put on his bunk accidentally over the years, but they were never addressed to him and he’d always made sure to put them in their correct place before they were missed. He hadn’t had a family to send him gifts on birthdays or holidays, never had someone who cared enough to go that extra mile; he didn’t know who Mrs. Klaus was or how she’d managed to sneak a present into the memory of an evil necromancer, but could only be grateful for whatever was in the box.

He didn’t tear into it, as he’d seen some of the other parallels-in-training do with faced with a gift. Despite his own words not a minute before about the urgency of the situation in the bank, he couldn’t help but carefully untie the bow of ribbon and tug gently on the tucked corners of the wrapping until the box beneath was revealed. The paper tore a little bit - it was sturdy, but not _that_ sturdy - but he managed to do a minimum of damage to it before setting it off to the side. The box beneath was a plain white cardboard, smooth to the touch and more rectangular than he was expecting. It wasn’t taped, and the top came off easily in his hands. Inside the box lay a marvelously red sweater. Tag dropped the box as he pulled the sweater out and unfolded it, and the cardboard thumped lightly back on to the wrapping paper beneath with a rustling sound.

The sweater itself was a merry red, with white snow dappling the shoulders and arms with carefully crocheted precision. Across the belly and chest area was a snowy scene picked out in whites and greens and blacks and blues, with pink touching the faces of skiers as they raced down a snowy slopes past snowmen with button eyes and crochet carrot noses. The outer fibers were smooth beneath his hands, clearly handmade, with each stitch placed with both an almost military precision and loving care, and the sheer amount of effort it represented gave Tag a warm feeling in his chest.

It didn’t match what he was wearing, but he didn’t care. He’d seen enough other people receive the gift clothing to know the first rule was that you wore whatever you got - especially when the gift-giver was around. Wasting no time, Tag pulled the sweater on over his head and negotiated it down over his shoulders and beneath his half-cape.

It was sinfully soft on the inside and warm, warmer than he was expecting, but it wasn’t the kind of warmth that made him want to sweat. For some strange reason, it reminded him more of Sam slinging an arm over his shoulders as they both drank robot cleaner while walking the decks of Haven. It reminded him of Bryn, taking one of his hands in both of her own as she spoke earnestly of what lay ahead. It reminded him of Rex punching him in the shoulder - except less painful.

It was a kind of warmth at once wholly unfamiliar and somehow the thing he’d been looking for all his life, and he couldn’t resist taking a moment to bury his face in the high collar. The sweater smelled like the corridors of Haven just after Puq finished making cookies, and Tag breathed deeply as he felt the warmth sink into the dark places inside of him and somehow make them that much less dark. Here in this moment was the furthest he’d felt from his half-dad since their introduction on the Fire planet, the most human.

The phone rang, and Tag pulled his face from the sweater with a sigh. The mission wasn’t over yet, and there was work to do.

But the sweater made it just that little bit easier to keep going.


End file.
